


Salacious

by rozberries



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Biting, Blood Kink, Demonic Ghouls, Drunken Shenanigans, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, Rough Sex, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:12:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15892314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rozberries/pseuds/rozberries
Summary: Weird beings wander the cloisters at night.





	Salacious

"I'm going to kill whoever gave them glitter," you groused as you swept one of the large conference rooms, glitter and confetti moving whenever you took a step. Whatever kind of party had occurred, it had been large, expensive, and very well stocked, considering the smell of booze was stronger than it had been in your college roommate's fraternity house. The duties of cleanup were of course ignored by the attendees, leaving a mess of alcohol and debris for the newest, greenest siblings, those blessed with the dirtiest jobs.

 

Hence, you.

 

You'd only been here a couple of weeks, and so far your experience was that Satanic churches had a lot more fun then Christian ones, but they still didn't clean up their messes. No one but you had shown up to clean, and considering it was past one in the morning, you were going to be cleaning this for a while. There wasn't even a way you could get up the wine stains without first sweeping up all the crushed food and thrown objects.

 

Your nose wrinkled as the awful smell of rotten grapes drifted up from the floor, and mumbled curses on drunk people who didn't keep their drinks on the table. The brochures all talked up awaiting the arrival of the Antichrist, worshiping Satan in various ways, and indulging in all the desires Christianity forbade, but no one ever fucking mentioned that apparently the unholy virtues didn't include cleanliness, respect for janitorial staff, or not wasting wines over a hundred years old. Drunk Satanists made just as big messes as drunk Christians or drunk agnostics, and the latter two groups generally didn't have demons with abnormally high alcohol tolerances and penchants for public sex involved.

 

When the damp mess of various solids was _finally_ off the floor and in your trash bin, you got on your knees with vinegar and a scrub brush and started working on one of the questionable stains near the wall, fervently glad for your rubber gloves. Soon, the musty, boozy air of the conference room changed to stinking of citrus cleaner and vinegar; you threw open the windows so you didn't pass out and continued to work at the various stains. Not thinking about what you were touching had become a useful skill very quickly, sometime on your third day in the church when you had to assist in sacrificing a couple of chickens; next to that, booze and things that only _could_ be come were preferred.

 

Poor little feathered bastards. You'd cried for an hour after that ritual was done.

 

Shuddering at the memory, you shook your head and returned to another stain, this one almost certainly wine by the smell. It came up burgundy on the paper towels you used to soak some of it up, and you sighed; another one for the baking soda. Said soda was sprinkled heavily over that and the next wine stain. Maybe twenty minutes had passed when you could no longer spot any stains; sweat trickled down your back as you breathed a prayer to Lucifer that it was done. You scurried to pack up your cleaning supplies; the initiate's showers might still be open, if you hurried and bribed someone....

 

Obviously, that was when the crash echoed through the hall.

 

You froze with your hands halfway free of the gloves, and slowly looked over your shoulder at the open door. Nothing was there, but you were still quiet as you got to your feet and rolled the cleaning cart out of the room. The hallway seemed the same as when you had left it before, except that a decorative vase now laid on its side in several pieces. You winced, and carefully checked first the left side of the hall. Nothing. Then you turned to the right, and at first it seemed the same, until you noticed a dark shape lying against one of the doors, and a pair of bright orange eyes flicked up to meet yours.

 

Your heart hammered painfully, sweat beading on your palms, and you took a step back. The shape let out a wail that made your hair stand on end, and you took a step back, desperately trying to figure out if you could make it back to where there would at least be someone to hear you scream. Something nagged at your head-what the hell kind of thing could get into this church, there was an entire wing of demons living here that could fuck you up in less time than it took to bake a pizza.

 

The shape made another sound, a weird chitter, and moved forward; you yelped, spun on your heel, and proceeded to trip over the carpeting. You barely caught yourself on one of the hall tables, and the shape chittered again, almost sadly, and crawled further into the light. There was a paper plate of spaghetti and sauce you'd just noticed by the floor, and one of the shape's hands snaked out and grabbed it; you could see the messy black shirt cuffs on the wrist.

 

Oh. Not a monster. Just a demon.

 

“You're lucky you aren't one of the ones who made the mess back there, or I'd leave you here,” you informed the ghoul with your hands on your hips, trying to project an air of confidence. He keened sadly up at you, looking for all the world like a puppy who'd knocked into the dinner pot. The plate of noodles had mostly spilled on the floor, but his jacket was spattered with tomato sauce and a few noodle sadly flopped on his collar. Stories aside, he didn't exactly look too scary now.

 

It was probably racist-speciesist? Prejudiced, anyway-but you still couldn't really tell most of the ghouls apart, even the band ones. Some were easier than others-like Aether, because he was so fucking huge, and the ghoulettes because, well, boobs. The exhibitionist was easy, too, for being tiny and pissy and inconsiderate; he didn't get the memo that basic decency involved not fucking his conquests in places where people could easily see it. Look, you tried not to kinkshame people, but apparently in Dewdrop's opinion, his cock was so glorious that anyone who saw him plowing some random sister or brother in the hallways(or the kitchens, or the library, or the gardens) should consider themselves blessed for seeing it.

 

“For fuck's sake, at least keep it somewhere behind a locked door,” you muttered, and the ghoul made a strange sound, tilting his head at you. Oh, you had said that out loud. Was that really spaghetti all over him? It smelled vaguely Italian in here, and blood smelled way different, you knew very well.

 

Awkwardly, you stepped over the overturned plate and offered your hand to the ghoul, who stared at it for a minute before taking it and getting to his feet. He swayed slightly when he did, and a few of the noodles fell from his jacket to the floor. You nearly had to shove a hand in your mouth to keep from laughing.

 

“So, uh, if you don't mind me asking, why are you eating in the hallway at-” you glanced at the nearest clock. “two forty-five am? Like, I understand wanting a midnight snack, god knows how much I've been craving burritos the past few nights, but why not just eat in the kitchen?”

 

He met your eyes, but didn't speak; instead, a string of staticky sounds ripped through your mind with all the subtlety of a eighteen-wheeler, that might have resembled words somewhere in another dimension. You clapped your hands over your ears, trying to silence the noise, but it kept ringing and ringing; by the time it stopped, tears had welled in your eyes. The ghoul whined and stepped up to you, nuzzling your neck in what you guessed was an apology. He didn't hug you, at least polite enough to realize he was filthy, though the stink of whiskey on him was enough to make your nose burn.

 

Wait.

 

Whiskey?

 

“Oh my god, you're _drunk as fuck_.”

 

In that moment, in your mind, he changed from a frightening denizen of Hell that might possibly eat you to just another friend who'd downed too much booze that you needed to drag home. You bent double in laughter, bracing your hands on your knees, for a few moments before you composed yourself and draped the ghoul's arm over your shoulder. He honest to goodness squeaked, looking at you with confusion, but you just chuckled and gently guided him down the hall.

 

“That explains the brain static thing, then. God, I had no idea you guys could get drunk, but I guess it makes sense,” you remarked as you slowly walked the ghoul towards your room in the hope that he wouldn't puke. “Sorry, man, I don't know where you guys sleep, so you're stuck with me for the night, kay? Don't worry, you can have the bed. Some nights I swear the chair is more comfy anyway; between you and me, the mattresses here _suck._ ”

 

He listened to all your rambling with no response other than more confused noises, but he came without much of a fight, which worried you. Anyone with a survival instinct shouldn't be so easy with someone leading them away, drunk or not drunk. Then again, he was a demon. No matter what a cute drunk he was, he could probably tear you in two with ease, and not in the fun way, even while smelling like a frat house party gone _real_ bad.

 

You hummed under your breath as you fumbled between the ghoul and your habit for your room key, finally producing it with a curse and unlocking the door. The ghoul stumbled in first, nearly tripping over your spare shoes you'd left unattended, and you had to race to catch him before he broke his neck. Another weird whine came from his throat, and you flinched instinctively before you shook your head at yourself and pointed at the bed.

 

“Sit, now, before you hurt yourself,” you ordered. He looked at you, squinting, and it was easy to imagine his eyebrows raised beneath the mask. You rolled your eyes and took his hand, leading him to the bed. Then you gently pushed on his chest until he sat down, and removed the tomato spattered suit jacket. He cried out when you did, grabbing at it, but you held firm.

 

“This is _my_ bed, and you are _not_ getting spaghetti sauce on it. Now, stay still for a second.”

 

You hung his jacket up on the hook on your door, then took a washcloth from your dresser and wiped off his face and neck where the sauce and noodles had splattered. He remained oddly still during the exercise, even when you unclipped his suspenders and hung them from the same hook as his jacket. When you stepped back and examined him, trying to see if you'd missed any spots, the gaze he fixed you with was heavy with promise, and he licked his lips, a hint of black, forked tongue pointing out. You blinked owlishly, mind screeching to a halt. Did...did that actually happen? Or were you seeing things?

 

Slowly, he rose from the bed, movements still a little wobbly, and crossed the room, placing his hands on your shoulders and leaning so close that you felt his breath against your lips. You froze, fear and curiosity in equal measure rushing you, along with a tiny hint of arousal you pushed down as soon as you noticed it. He lifted one of his hands and stroked your cheek, leaving ghostly tingles in its path, and you shuddered. A new gleam was in his eyes, and you had a feeling you knew what it was.

 

He inclined his head to yours, a soft kiss from his lips to your own, but even though it sent warm dizziness through most of your body you gently pushed him away. You were already breathing heavily. “Whoa, down boy. You're drunk. Not saying you aren't hot or whatever-didn't think I'd ever say that sentence in this context-”

 

The ghoul cut you off with another kiss, and this time you forgot your protests, the only thoughts you had about how good it felt to feel him against you. He kept stroking your cheek until he could sneak his hand around to the back of your head and suddenly pull you closer, allowing him to deepen the kiss. A tiny moan escaped your lips, and a low, pleased rumble started in his chest-a purr. You could feel the vibrations against your body, which suddenly had far too many barriers between your skin and his.

 

Sanity returned to you when his tongue darted against your lips, and this time you had to force yourself to move away. He whined when you stepped out of his arms; the sound was so pitiful that it made you want to reconsider, but you held firm. Why did he have to be so cute?

 

“Dude, stop, I'm not fucking you while you're drunk. Maybe in the morning, if you aren't hungover. Now will you _please_ lie down, so you don't throw up?” you pleaded; this would be so much easier if he was sober enough to mindspeak to you, because you had no idea if he understood what you were getting at. His shoulders slumped, and he shuffled back over to the bed and flopped down on it without pulling up the blankets, the very picture of dejection. You stifled a giggle, and he huffed at you, but then lifted his arm and crooked a finger in a clear invitation; there was only a moment of hesitation before you followed his command, kicking off your shoes and crawling in beside him without changing out of your habit.

 

The ghoul pulled you tight against him and started purring again, the soothing sound combined with your exhaustion enough to make your eyelids heavy in record time. He was warm, and you didn't even miss the blankets with how you were snuggled into him. “Don't try any...funny business, ya hear me?” you mumbled, the effect negated by the yawn in the middle of the sentence. He might have tried to mindspeak to you again-you couldn't tell-but you fell into sleep too quickly to understand, wrapped up tightly in the arms of a demon.

 

*

 

Someone was kissing your neck.

 

Feathery kisses, almost too light to be called that, but they were kisses regardless, and you automatically tried to turn over to see who it was, but an iron arm held you in place. The sun was streaming in through your window, you were almost too warm despite the absence of your blankets, and there was someone cuddling you from behind while kissing you. Someone who currently had a very large erection, if what you could feel pressing against your ass was any indication.

 

 _Good morning, beautiful,_ a voice purred in your head, no longer garbled to the point of gibberish, and you shivered. Teasing fingers drew patterns on your side. _Sleep well?_

 

You tried to turn around again, and this time he let you, though he kept his arm hooked around you. The ghoul from last night was propped up on his elbow looking down at you, eyes clear, bright, and hot, with his tail wrapped possessively around your leg. Your lips parted, a light gasp escaping, and he grinned, sharp teeth on display.

 

“Um...yeah, I did. And-and you?” you stammered out. It was way harder to be coherent around him when his voice in your head was like sex on a stick and his obvious attraction to you made your legs feel funny. In fact, you were responding to him already, in the form of an embarrassing wet patch in your underwear he could probably smell.

 

_I did, very much so. And speaking of which...._

 

He crawled over top of you, going slowly enough that you could stop him if you wished; you remained still as he placed his hands on either side of your head and lowered his body to yours, pressed together from chests to hips. The heat rolling off of him was enough to make you sweat, and he'd started purring again, the sound bizarre coming from a being that was mostly human shaped. It rumbled through your bodies where they pressed together, and you got damper when he lightly ground against you, your legs instinctively spreading to let him in further. The purring grew stronger.

 

 _I'm not drunk anymore,_ he cooed while nibbling your ear, tucking a strand of your hair behind it. You shivered, your dirty mind going straight to places not fit for polite company. _And I'd like to continue where I left off last night, if you don't mind._

 

Oh, Jesus. Your tongue refused to listen to your brain for a minute, but you managed to stammer out, “Su-sure? I mean, at least tell me your name first, but-”

 

The ghoul cut you off by crushing his lips to yours, one hand hitching your leg up around his. You moaned into his mouth, tracing your tongue on his lips to taste him, and he gladly opened up to you. Blood welled up between you, the product of inhuman sharp teeth meeting soft, unprotected flesh, but you didn't mind; the taste added something new to this dance, one you very much enjoyed.

 

 _Call me Swiss_ , he murmured, and dragged his claws down your habit, fabric tearing in two easily and leaving long red scratches dug deep into your torso. The pain made your eyes water and fire shoot through you everywhere he touched. You pushed up against him, trying to make contact, but the ghoul easily held you down and sank his teeth into your neck, his tongue laving against your skin. You let out a high pitched moan, and he honest to Christ _growled_ , the sound far hotter than you ever expected it to be.

 

His tongue dragged over your body, licking up every trace of blood he could find, and bringing up more every time those teeth of his came up. The metal of his mask bumped against your ribs, and with a growl he tore it off and threw it at the wall, where it let out a clang and fell to the floor. Then he moved to your breasts and sucked hard on a nipple, drawing a yelp from you and making your fingers fly to his hair. Frantically you yanked at his shirt, trying to get it off, and he chuckled lowly in your mind.

 

Soon blood decorated your breasts as well as your neck, and while you were almost to the point of coming, you felt bad that Swiss hadn't gotten much attention so far. So, when he finally pulled away from your nipples to breath, you twisted beneath him; confused, he let you up, only for you to crawl atop him and palm him through his slacks. A loud hiss escaped him, and you grinned as you fumbled with the snap; he lunged up and kissed you viciously, wrapping one arm around you. You could taste the copper of your blood on his lips.

 

When he finally laid back down, grinning up at you with bloodied teeth, you silently vowed to knock that smile off his face and set to work. Slowly, you pulled down his slacks enough that his cock could be pulled free, took it in hand, and gave a firm pump. Swiss arched beneath you, keening, and you bit back a laugh as you pumped him again and again. If that sound was sweet, the next one was sweeter; when you took a deep breath and dragged yourself up and down his cock, letting him feel how wet you were. He yowled, spitting various half-intelligible curses into your mind, and you only had time to do it twice more before he lost his patience and grabbed you, pulling you right atop him.

 

You weren't a virgin, though you didn't have much experience, but you did know your own body well enough that you thought you could predict its actions. So when Swiss finally sheathed himself inside you, stretching you almost to the point of pain, the scream you let out was as much a surprise to you as it was to him. God, there was so much feeling, so much _heat_ ; you wanted to wrap your legs and arms around him and never let him out of you. The ghoul's growl was just as audible as your scream, and you barely had time to feel shame before he took hold of your hips and lifted you almost completely off of him, then slammed you back down. Pleasure and pain shot through you in equal measure, and you screamed again, feeling like he really would tear you in two.

 

“Fuck,” you wheezed out, nails digging into his shoulders; your arms were shaking with exertion as another purr rumbled in his chest. “God, Swiss, I don't think I can-I can top-please-”

 

 _Your wish is my command, my beautiful one,_ he murmured, and flipped the two of you easily; when you were caged beneath him, he set a new pace, hard and fast and utterly brutal. You cried out every thrust, unable to silence your noises; if he were human, you would have rent his back bloody with how you dug your fingernails into it. As it was, you could feel tiny dents and furrows where the pressure had moved even some of his tough skin.

 

Swiss bit your neck again and again, with tiny nips he sucked on hard enough to leave welts over and over; your skin probably looked like you had been attacked by something. At this point you couldn't do much but moan his name, which only seemed to spur him on further. Time blurred as you moved against each other, the pain and pleasure swirling into a heady haze that clouded all of your awareness except where your skin and his met.

 

“Hey, wakey wakey eggs and bakey, Sister, you don't wanna miss breakfast!” a familiar voice called from your door with a few loud bangs; Sister Marina, the sibling who oversaw your section of the cloisters. You opened your mouth to answer her, but before you could speak Swiss looked over his shoulder and snarled viciously, even making you start; Marina yelped, jumped, and hit the floor, landing hard enough to make the flagstones echo. He then drove into you again hard enough for you to see stars, and you let out a long, high wail you were sure could be heard all the way down the hall. Your face was on fire as Swiss let out a rumbling purr, nuzzling against your cheek.

 

“Uh, well, okay then!” Marina babbled, her voice growing fainter with every word. “I'll leave you two to it, then, and, um, make your excuses to Sister Imperator. Don't worry about getting in trouble, by the way, this happens all the time!”

 

You let your head fall back to the pillow. “I'll never be able to look her in the face again.”

 

_Doesn't matter._

 

He lifted your hips, seeking a better angle, and swallowed your next scream, hungrily devouring your lips. You were so exhausted by now that you couldn't do anything but hold onto him tightly and beg for more, faster, harder; god, you wanted him _everywhere_. Swiss's hands roamed all over your body when he finally dropped you back to the mattress, teasing, pinching, but when he bent and pressed his face into the junction of your neck, the simple act felt more intimate than anything else. You pulled him closer, as close as you could, and kissed the top of his head.

 

Softly, he cooed to you, the most gentle sound you'd heard out of him all this time, and nuzzled against your neck just as he slipped a hand between your bodies and tweaked your clit. Orgasm roared through your body as you arched against him, a silent scream ripping your throat; Swiss choked at your clenching around him as he slammed into you one last time, before he found his own release, his come filling you up until the excess leaked out onto the bed sheets.

 

You went boneless, covered in various sticky bodily fluids, but Swiss paid no attention to your state of filth, licking, kissing, and nuzzling against every inch of you. The soreness in your limbs was going to cause some issues, but even with blood-speckled bruises all over your body and wearing only sweaty rags, you felt euphoric. Swiss slipped out of you and laid down by your side, letting you crawl over him and bury your face in his neck. He was purring all the while, and held you tightly against him, tail flicking lazily back and forth as you cuddled.

 

 _My little human. All mine. I'm glad I got to you first, otherwise I would have had to fight the others for you_ , Swiss murmured, and you blushed again, squeaking slightly; his words made your stomach flutter even while sending another bolt of arousal through your exhausted body. He laughed when you involuntarily shivered, fingers creeping down to the fork of your legs.

 

_So soon, beautiful? You'll test my stamina._

 

Whining, you twisted away from his teasing hands and ended up almost falling off of the bed; Swiss caught you and kissed you again, then sought out your neck once more.

 

“See, I'd really, _really_ like to, but I kinda can't feel my legs and I'm so fucking hungry that you're lucky I haven't taken a bite out of _you_ yet,” you got out between moans as he bit and kissed at you, leaving a denser pattern of bite marks all over your neck. He grinned up at you, smug with pride, and then slid back up and wrapped you up in his arms. His purr rolled over you in a soothing wave, and your eyes blurred as you tucked your face back into his neck.

 

_We'll wait till you can walk, then, and get you something to eat. Then, well...I can think of a few other things I want to do._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired in equal parts by @opuseponymustard and @theproblematiclife on Tumblr, via a post about drunk ghouls failing to eat spaghetti, and innocent sisters trying to help. ;3


End file.
